


Goddammit Jazz

by Bomani_Akila_Neteru



Series: Those Sexy Aliens, Good Shit [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Jazz's Grin is Sex, Lesbians go straight, Prowl has had enough, Quit it Jazz, you little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bomani_Akila_Neteru/pseuds/Bomani_Akila_Neteru
Summary: The party don’t start till Jazz walks in. And that’s just fine; cause everyone knows he’s a party animal. Prowl just wishes he’d stop turning lesbians straight with his grin of pure sex. Goddammit Jazz! Slight Lesbian!OC/Jazz





	Goddammit Jazz

Amy scowled as she leaned back in her seat, gripping her margarita tightly in her right hand. The dark wooden chair creaked beneath her, protesting against the abuse; the bleach blonde was far beyond irritated however and gave no indication that she noticed.  
She’d been waiting for- she checked her watch- two hours. Two hours for her girlfriend to show up. They had agreed not thirty minutes before she had shown up, to meet up at a nearby bar just down the street from where they shared an apartment.

Only for Amy to be stood up. There really wasn’t any other explanation for it.  
Especially since her brother had texted her and let her know that her girlfriend was at his house and in one piece; along with a picture as proof. Which her lover was unaware of.  
The mere thought of it had her tightening her grip on her glass almost to the point of shattering it. Oh how she was pissed.

A quick throwback of the drink and she’d downed it all in a single glug. Fuck it.

The sound of glass hitting wood echoed around the dingy little bar as she slammed her shot glass down forcefully. More so than was absolutely necessary. It was a voiceless sentiment to her current raging feelings. Just what the hell was she going to do? A groan struggled against her clenched teeth, begging to be released, as if it would somehow help calm the raging hurricane within and ease the pressure. She wished it were that simple.

Between the pain, the anger, and the sharp sting of betrayal- she felt as though she were going to drown.

But Amy supposed that this wasn’t entirely surprising. After all, hadn’t she discovered a month or so that her lover had been cheating on her with someone else? It wasn’t hard to deduce. The perfume, the lipstick marks, the lateness when coming home, and even being stood up at nearly every turn of the way. It was slipping between her fingers, a failed romance that was going down in flames without any sort of parachute or emergency fire extinguisher. And while it hurt, there was very little Amy could do that she had not already tried in a desperate attempt to salvage what she had forged with who she had once believed was the love of her life.

Maybe it was time to let go and move on…

Perhaps she’d start with a one night stand, Amy mused as she looked over the other occupants of the bar.

They were mostly men, and thus failed to hold her attention; and the few women there didn’t tickle her fancy, unfortunately. Frustration boiled within Amy, and in her fit of irritation, slumped further down in her seat. Now rather put out and feeling bored, she simply surveyed the scene and the different people that filled up the small building. Her eyes skimmed over most of the regulars she had seen many times before, finding nothing of true interest.

There was John the drunkard, who’d lost his wife in a tragic accident; Joe the alcoholic; Martha the single, mother-of-three waitress....

No, wait. There was someone new today.

Attention snagged, Amy perked up and tried to subtly peek up over the crowd of heads, only for confusion to mingle with curiosity and fascination. People like that didn’t just show up any day. It made her wonder why someone who looked like they could very well be a supermodel was in a rinky-dink, dirty bar like this.

Skin as pale and smooth as ivory seemed to glow a bit under the dim lighting, and dark, enchanting blue eyes peered up from under charcoal black, long eyelashes- his matching hair swept to the side. He was so dainty looking that it had taken Amy a moment to realize he was male, and not, in fact, a very good looking tomboyish woman. She took a moment to examine his very clean looking cop uniform before allowing herself to slump in her seat in disappointment.

Dammit. If she was straight, she’d totally tap that.

The bartender drifted by and filled up her shot glass yet again. Amy didn’t even question it, didn’t even look up, and instead downed the drink in a single gulp before slamming it back down again. Her mind was beginning to become a little hazy around the edges from the alcohol consumption, her guts warm and rolling, and she debated cutting herself off and calling it quits- before shrugging it off. She needed this, and felt she also deserved it, with all the shit she’d been putting up with recently.

She had worked too hard, too fast, too far. Time to slow down. Breathe.

Amy’s thoughts drifted back to the newcomer. Male though he might be, maybe she could make an acception for tonight? That is, if he was interested. Her thoughts turned gloomy and she scowled. A man like him, single? Not bloody likely. Probably married. Yes, more than probable. Mind made up, Amy nodded and tried to put him out of her mind. There was no way in hell she’d be like her girlfriend, anyway.

In any case, she was most definitely lesbian. NOT straight. Men just weren’t her thing.  
Though it didn’t help that this one was strangely feminine. That was probably why...

Groaning, Amy slammed back yet another shot, fighting down the sudden need to get plastered off her ass. It wouldn’t help anything. If anything, getting smashed would probably make everything a whole lot worse. Waking up with the hangover of the century wasn’t on her bucket list. The very thought had her grimacing in distaste and grumbling.

The bell ringing as the entrance door opened had Amy lifting her head up curiously again. Usually more people didn’t come in after a certain time, and it perked her interest. Hoping against hope that it was a pretty girl to hit on, the blonde craned her neck to see over people’s heads and felt disappointment hit her like a truck. It certainly wasn’t a girl, and beyond that, she couldn’t see much else. The man was shorter than most of the people here, and he was already moving through the crowd.

Scowling, Amy leaned against the bar and stared down at her empty shot glass gloomily.  
“Hey there sugar. Another?” Martha, bless her heart, sounded more than a little concerned as she stopped at Amy’s spot.  
“Nah.” The blonde sighed, “I should probably head home soon.”  
“Okay sweetie. Just let me know if you need anything. Don’t let the missus get to you.” With that, the older woman wandered off, knowing better than to push or be overly nosy.

Amy held nothing but affection for the hardened mother of three.

For a moment, she sat there and stared listlessly at the bar in front of her, unable to muster up the will to move. Really, she needed to go home though. It was late and Amy was starting to get drunk. At the moment, however, it was little more than a buzz. Every fiber of her being wanted to just lay over the bar and go to sleep. But that wasn’t allowed.

They tended to get a little irritated at you when you did that.

“S’cuse meh, waitress.” A male voice, smooth and almost sinful with how dark and inviting it sounded had Amy jumping slightly in surprise. Blinking owlishly, her dark green eyes sliding over to take in the person speaking.  
Later, she would deduce that he was the one that had walked in earlier, from his size and darker colored skin. At the moment however, Amy was fairly brain dead. Whether from the man himself, the beer, or her own slowness, she wasn’t sure.

Despite swinging for her own team, Amy knew how to appreciate beauty when she saw it. Like she had done with the brunette earlier, she could admire a man’s physique without wanting to jump his bones. This, however, felt different. Just looking at him had her pulse racing in something akin to excitement, her stomach swooping, and had her feeling dizzy. Just like how Amy had felt meeting her current (ex?) lover.

He was wearing a strange set of light blue glasses- they were strangely shaped, like a visor from Star Trek, but he pulled it off well- a silver t-shirt with a black stripe up one side, blue jeans, and white sneakers. His black hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the top of his head, and was done up in dreads. The beginnings of a beard graced his jaw and his teeth flashed white as he grinned over at her, breaking her from her musings.  
“Hey there lil’ lady. Wassup?” His mannerisms were easy going and accepting, and Amy swallowed thickly against the rising urge to retreat outside for a breath of fresh air. He was absolutely overwhelming. Already she could sense that this man was like nicotine.

Addictive and hard to leave alone.

“Not much.” Amy choked out, trying to avoid looking directly at him. His accent alone was almost too much to handle in the suddenly too warm bar.   
She continued to observe him out of the corner of her eye as Martha wandered over to him and took his order. This conundrum of a stranger was a little under average height for a man- but still taller than her- and somehow had her wondering if his milk chocolate colored skin tasted like the candy it so resembled. Hell, at this point, she wondered how the hell it wasn’t a crime to be that attractive.

Warmth flooded Amy’s body, and she did her best to ignore it, blaming the alcohol.

“So, wha's a pretty lil’ lady like yourself doin’ in a place like this?” His question startled her yet again, and she fumbled for a moment, having to make sure he was talking to her.  
“Drinking.” It was about all she could get out in her state of mind, and Amy’s face warmed as she realized that he was hitting on her. Her!  
At first, she believed she could resist him. All she had to do was stand up and leave. Right?  
Oh no. She was so, so wrong. Because right at that moment, the stranger decided to grin at her again. A grin Amy swore was made of pure and complete sex.

The first thing to run through her mind was how long it would take her to drag him to a semi-private room and have her wicked way with him.

“So, wha’s yer name?” He leaned on the bar and angled his body towards her,  
“Amy, Amy Sparks.” The blonde licked her suddenly too dry lips, “And yours?”  
“Jazz.” The man rumbled smoothly, like dark thunder, “Just Jazz.” Good lord, he was going to be her undoing, Amy just knew it. The thud of two drinks being set down in front of Jazz had Amy jumping in surprise, as she seemed to be doing a lot that evening.

Jazz looked regretful at the two drinks, then over into the crowd before flashing that heart melting grin at her again,  
“Unfortunately ‘ah gotta head back to ma’h colleague.” He seemed apologetic, “But you should call me’h up sometime, ‘kay?” grinning wider and seeming to wink, he pushed a card into Amy’s hand that seemed to appear out of nowhere, “Ah’ll show ya a good time.” without giving her a chance to respond or process what he had just suggested, Jazz stood and left, taking the drinks with him.  
Amy gaped after him, mouth abruptly dessert like. Her mind both whirling at a thousand miles per hour and screeching to a stop. After a good minute or so, the blonde quickly smacked money on the bar for her drinks, yanked her jean jacket on, stuffed the card into her pocket and practically bolted for the door.

Holy hell. Ho-ly. Fucking. Hell.

Her heart was still pounding thirty minutes later as she hurried down the streets towards home, her hands in her pockets and the fingers on her right hand brushing against and playing with the card. Amy felt a giddy sort of grin crawl onto her face. She was already starting to consider Jazz’s proposal, despite having never been with a man or remotely interested in one.

Amy laughed as a thought occurred to her.

Maybe Jazz had just turned her straight.

XxX

Prowl glared at the shorter male as he practically sauntered over to their table and put the drinks down with a shit eating grin. “Dammit Jazz!”  
“Wha’chu talkin’ ‘bout, Prowlers?” The brunette tried to send him an innocent look, but it was ruined by the wide smile he still wore,

“Quit turning the gays straight!”

**Author's Note:**

> Can we all just agree that Jazz is a piece of sexy ass?


End file.
